The Art of Blackmail
by Cairnsy
Summary: When a past relationship threatens to make headlines, Charon is prepared to do almost anything to keep the past exactly where it belongs – IN the past. But keeping the sordid story secret may not be the only bit of wishful thinking. Pain x Charon.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: When a past relationship threatens to make headlines, Charon is prepared to do almost anything to keep the past exactly where it belongs – IN the past. But keeping the sordid story secret may not be the only bit of wishful thinking. Pain x Charon.

Author's notes: I really do love this pairing, as nutty as they would be together. This is going to be a fairly short series, and should only be about four or five chapters.

**The Art of Blackmail: prologue.**

Charon had never been fond of blackmail, at least not when it was used against him. He thought it was a sound enough device when he was the one inflicting it on others - it was after all often the only way he could get Medea to actually do anything (bribing was the rare other alternative), and Pain often worked best when there was a hint of panic in his movements. But only a fool would try and blackmail Charon in turn, in part because Charon was known to be as close to unblackmailable as a politician could be. He had no vices, was above anything even remotely unlawful, and had so few weaknesses that even if someone managed to identify them they'd probably be overlooked by accident.

A faerie who was clever enough to blackmail him over something he'd actually done was the type of person that Charon had always assumed he'd have at least a smidgen of respect for. He might even, he had thought once when one idiot had threatened to reveal his secret love child to the world (the third one of the month, he certainly managed to get around a lot without ever seeming to leave his office), give in to the demands of the would be blackmailer simply because of the sheer skill that must have been involved in finding something – anything – to use against him.

It was a stupid mindset to have and Charon found he had no use for it now, a nosy reporter standing triumphantly before him, photographs spread across his desk as though it was a dinning room table and they were a selection of the finest cuisine he had to offer. The reporter's demands were simply really: money, lots of it. Otherwise, the twins to the photographs on his desk would somehow find their way into the top newspapers around their land, and Charon would never be able to show his face anywhere ever again.

"Well, perhaps at a brothel," the reporter amended, his slimy smile taking on a far nastier shade. "You certainly appear to have the form for it beneath all those layers of robes."

Charon wanted to blast him into a thousand little particles of dust right then, but unless the reporter was bluffing (a distinct possibility), then the photographs would be automatically released if the reporter was to suddenly disappear off the face of the planet. It was a nice trick except for the fact that it annoyed the hell out of Charon, and it meant he would have to take his suddenly homicidal tendencies out on someone else. That might have been more of a problem if he didn't already have a candidate lined up.

"I will need time to get the amount you requested together." His cold words warmed the reporter, whose hazel eyes took on a greener tint. "I am sure you are aware that these things take time."

"Four days should be enough. Perhaps you would like to consult Mr Pain and hunt down the money together?"

"Oh, I will be talking to Pain about this, mark my words." Charon replied dangerously, a dark scowl settling. It was enough to draw out a slightly strangled and nervous laugh from the reporter, who quickly excused himself. Few were so stupid to deliberately step in the way when Charon was on the war path, although it did generally make things more enjoyable for Charon.

"Pain. Now." Charon rarely used the magic he did then, in part because the spell was one that was incredibly difficult to perform, but more so as it often resulted in pulling the summoned person out of … unseemly … situations. There was also the slight fact that the spell was very much illegal, but as Charon had written the law himself he saw no reason why he should not also be allowed to break it on occasions. When Pain arrived a mere second later he looked surprised and disheveled but at least he had all his clothes on, although the slight smidgen of blood that marred his fists (not his own, obviously) suggested that there was a fighter somewhere who had suddenly found himself without someone to fight.

"The castle isn't burning down, there's no screams of panic filling the air or enemies breeching the gates." Pain sounded amused as he glanced around the room before allowing his gaze to fall on Charon. "What great disaster have you called me in for, today?"

"Look at the photos, Pain." Charon was not in the mood for playing, although based on the deliberately disinterested look that Pain spared the photographs, the other man obviously – perilously – was.

"You're looking at porn, I'm impressed Charon."

"Look again, Pain." His slow, dangerous words seemed to at least make Pain realize that something was vaguely wrong, and as he Pain did exactly as he was instructed for once, his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Porn of us. If I'd known you had these I would have asked for a copy." Pain tilted his head to the side as he studied the photographs. "We were cute kids, weren't we? Where did you get them from?"

"A reporter."

"Ah," Pain said knowingly. "So you called me here to dispose of the body." But even though the other man joked inappropriately, Pain looked slightly disturbed.

"He has the originals still. Obviously. He plans on making the photos public if we don't give him a good enough moneterial reason not to." Instead of looking annoyed, frustrated, pissed off or all of the above, Pain instead looked far too fascinated by the whole thing.

"How much?"

"A year's wages." Pain leaned slightly against Charon's desk, contemplating the ransom.

"Well, I suppose that isn't all that bad, it could have certainly have been-"

"- for the entire palace."

Pain blinked a couple of times.

"Now that's just greedy." There was a hint of reproval in Pain's voice. "You should just tell him to go screw himself, see if he has the guts to release the pictures with the knowledge that he won't be around long enough to enjoy the aftermath."

"That's not an option and you very well know it. These pictures must stay out of the press at any cost." Plus, murder was one of those many things he wasn't allowed to commit as the King's right hand man. A hint of frustration must have slipped into his voice, as Pain suddenly got _that _look. Charon wasn't entirely sure what _that _look ever actually meant, although it was often followed by a brief break in insanity where Pain would actually attempt to contribute something meaningful.

"I know you don't want the pictures to become public, Charon, although heaven knows why – you're certainly attractive enough in them." Charon snatched back the photo that Pain had idly been glancing at. "But if you are worried about the public's perception of you, then you need to realize that they will feel more betrayed if they found out you've covered this up by paying off a reporter. You'll find they'll forgive a fling a couple of sixteen years old had almost a decade ago far easier than something as malicious as bribery."

A fling. For some reason it hurt to hear Pain describe it as that, even though it was certainly an adequate enough definition. Perhaps it was because they'd never really talked about it at all since they'd been sixteen, and this misguided feeling of hurt was instead something more violent searching for an outlet.

"I do not plan on letting those pictures get leaked to the public," Charon replied calmly, swiping the phantom copies away into his desk drawer without looking at them. "But I do not believe I ever mentioned paying the ransom, either." A slow smirk spread across Pain's lips, and something that was almost akin to excitement sparkled briefly in his eyes.

"You plan to get the original pictures back."

* * *

And that's the prologue! The next chapter delves into the past of our two heroes, as we learn more about the backstory to those pesky photographs! All reviews and thoughts are very welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: **Big thanks and hugs to Misura (the pictures aren't really pornographic, Pain was just being a … pain –grin-) and to Animegoil for the wonderful reviews. Love you both! There are some things that you mentioned Misura that are actually explained away in the next chapter, so hopefully some stuff will eventually make a little more sense. Faeries' Landing is a very sweet (and a little strange) series Animegoil with a nice, big cast, and while I obsess over two of the more minor characters, in general it's a very fun series. ANYWAY. Onto the actual chapter. This takes us back into the past as we learn a little about the relationship and what makes Charon in particular tick, as opposed to what simply ticks him off in general.

* * *

**Chapter Two.**

At sixteen, Charon had been a very lonely, very lost pseudo-adult. Few people who knew him now would believe such a thing even if evidence was provided, but then Charon had made sure all evidence of his less than stellar childhood had been incinerated long ago. Things had been different when he was thirteen, when he'd had some friends and a somewhat warm, only partly insane, family. Back then he had only spent half his day absorbed in things such as work and study, the other had been half spent doing childish things like playing – not that many people would believe that now, either. But a child will only ever remain a child if they stay at home all their lives, and Charon had always held far loftier goals.

He wanted to be a pilot.

Of course, Charon had realized very quickly that 'Charon: Pilot' was not all that likely to ever happen. Firstly, faeries did not have planes, making the occupation a fairly difficult one to find any true success in. However, it had been more the growing realisation – and at that deadly age of thirteen – that the faerie world was run by an inept fool who did far more harm than good that had truly made Charon forget the thrill of flight. His mother had coldly told him that he was a fool to think that a mere child could change anything, but Charon had decided that adults who changed things had really once just been children who managed to outlive their parent's forebodings. The next year, when he applied to join the elite academy that only the brightest (or most connected) students were accepted into, he didn't simply turn heads with his marks, but created a rumble throughout the entire faerie kingdom.

Everyone knew right from the beginning that Charon was special.

It was exactly why things had been so completely horrible for his first three years.

Charon had known that the world of politics that he had thrown himself into would be cut throat, what he hadn't realized was that it would be his throat everyone was trying to slit. Marked out as the brightest, possessing by far the most leadership ability, and being able to handle anything that was thrown at him with an unnerving calmness, he couldn't have painted a larger target on himself if he'd broken out some florescent paint and drawn one on. It didn't help, naturally, that he actually studied all hours and threw himself completely into his work, ignoring the barbs and then fists that were thrown in his direction in an attempt to make him 'reconsider' his choice of future. Bullies like their victims to be cowered, and by refusing to play at being a victim Charon had denied them even the simplest of successes.

His mother had said once, in that special tone of hers that she reserved solely for her dearly loved children, that perhaps the reason why all the other boys didn't like him had nothing to do with petty things like jealousy and greed. Perhaps the reason they all hated him was because he was a cold, unemotional little boy who even a mother would find difficult to love.

And people wondered why his sister was so needy and clingy.

But his sister had only been ten when Charon was celebrating his sixteenth birthday, alone and empty and holding the only birthday present he'd gotten that year (_Popularity: Learning to Adapt and Change_, thank you very much, mother) (but at least she'd gotten him a book). It was looking like it was going to be another one of those years, where the days were safest spent in the library and the nights passed curled in his room, reading and studying and quite possibly – although he would never admit it now – plotting revenge on all those who'd made his last few years so miserable. But then, something totally inexplicable had happened.

Pain had arrived.

Everyone loved him at first sight, naturally. Everyone always loved Pain, although Charon was generally hard pressed to say why. Pain won over instantly the wealthy snobs who thought power was a birthright (it helped that Pain had a fair few connections himself), and he was fawned over by their followers by always having a smile and sly joke at hand. Charon had been intent on despising Pain instantly, a defensive move he'd picked up half way through his first year when he'd slowly began to realize that friendship was something that was obviously beyond him. He knew that his new roommate had been warned all about him – mostly lies of course, although not quite totally – before Pain even ventured into the room, and Charon was all prepared to nod in a noncommittal manner before ignoring the other boy completely. It turned out however, that Pain, with his warm greeting and warmer smile, were very difficult to ignore. Pain didn't care that Charon was the pariah of choice, or that Charon had a habit of making everyone – including Pain, _especially _Pain – look like an idiot through everyday comments and conversation. Pain didn't even care when Charon turned down every single one of his invitations to a party or outing, although he might have understood that it wasn't quite that Charon didn't want to go, and just that he didn't really know how to say yes.

Pain did care however, when he walked in early from class one afternoon and found Charon nursing a fresh set of bruises that made his arm look alternatively like a plump and squished grape. Charon had at first waved off Pain's concerned and then threatened darkly to hex the other boy when Pain ignored him completely, running slightly trembling fingers down the bruises and allowing the magic they held to wash away the pain beneath them. There hadn't been all that many times in the past when someone else had preformed a healing spell on him (the time that an eight year old Medea had tried to fix one of her brother's 'boo boos' was best not thought about), and it shook Charon in a rather undignified manner to have Pain of all people get so intimate. Pain hadn't noticed, luckily, although to his credit few people would have when they were on the other side of the room, half buried under a shelf that had fallen down when Pain had hit the wall with a hard thud. Charon never dared use magic against even those who deserved it, but he HAD warned Pain. A book spread open across his head like a traumatic wig; Pain had mock glared at him before rising and belly flopping on his bed, pointedly ignoring Charon in a way that teased the tiniest of smiles from Charon. Charon had been somewhat horrified by it, hiding the traitorous and completely out of character smile behind a book. The only plus was that there was no way Pain could have seen it, could surely not have seen it, and so when he said – his face buried still in pillow – that Charon should smile more often as he looked all sorts of cute when he did, Charon threw the book at the other boy. As it bounced off his shoulder and brought a startled yelp from Pain, Charon discovered that the move had the opposite effect that he had intended, as instead of yelling or getting pissed off, Pain retaliated. With a pillow. And, when it was all over and their room was filled with feathers that kept turning up in strange places for months afterwards, Charon actually _laughed._

It was all downhill from there. Falling in love with Pain became something completely unavoidable, even though Charon certainly tried his best to avoid such a disastrous outcome. He told himself that the only reason he even liked Pain in the first place was by default, given that it was certainly difficult to like any of the other boys who were hell bent on seeing him fail. He justified away the times Pain made him smile as a sign that Charon himself obviously needed to get a sense of humor that was actually worthy of his intelligence and ambitions. It didn't help that Pain didn't appear to have any problems making Charon aware of his own, growing attraction for Charon, flirting in totally inappropriate ways that Charon never, ever enjoyed and always somehow being exactly what Charon seemed to need with an annoying consistency. But Charon tried to justify it all, all the same, mastering the art of denial on almost the same level as he was mastering magic and politics.

It was very hard to explain away, however, racing though the halls in a completely undignified manner, mentally rambling on about how he was going to kill Pain's sparring partner if what people were saying was true. Depending on the source, his roommate had either lost a limb, had broken half the bones in his body, or was suffering from a vicious concussion that had possibly resulted in a permanently diminished mental capability (not that there would be all that much difference between Pain with two brain cells and Pain with one, his feverish thoughts had still managed to acknowledge).

In the end, Pain was fine. Bruised and sore and with bandages everywhere while the magic healed skin that was still sure to scar, but fine enough that Charon didn't felt a single shred of guilt when, emotionally exhausted and more mentally frayed than he could ever remember being, Charon punched him.

Pain kissed him in return.

And, well. Splat. The downhill tumble into emotion might have been a torrent of denial, but the months that followed, Charon begrudgingly allowed, almost made it worth it. The relationship was exciting and vibrant and nothing like Charon had ever known before, and everything else didn't quite matter so much when Pain was there, sure to drag him into some shadowed corner or risk a dark glare from Charon by becoming slightly too familiar when they were in public together. Instead of finding Charon's intelligence and abilities overbearing, Pain instead somehow found them insanely attractive, and even when Charon occasionally tried to drive Pain away by being … well, Charon … the other man never went far, always managing to win him reluctantly back with a wide smile or a thoughtful word. Pain was the closest thing to perfect that Charon had ever known, but more than that he was also very accessible, what with his bed being on the other side of the room. These things were very important to teenagers who were acknowledging they even had hormones for the very first time.

Hormones, however, while very fun to discover and act upon, were not so very fun when discovered by someone _else_ and acted on. Charon could still remember in vivid detail being dragged into the dean's office, his kind gaze the only warning Charon needed to know that something downright awful was about to happen, and Charon was sure to be the one who would end up losing out. The dean had learnt about Charon's relationship with Pain – although he wouldn't say how, which lead Charon to the theory that the man was a pervert who spent his evenings spying through the keyholes of each of the bedrooms in the hopes of catching some hot boy-on-boy action – and for Charon's own sake (of course) thought that it would be best if Charon ended it.

Charon refused. He was sixteen, in love, and very, very stupid.

The dean had been surprised – although also a little impressed, it must be said – that Charon wasn't so willing to give up something as silly and unimportant as acceptance and romance and fun in order to preserve his bright future. The dean had spelt it out then, warning Charon that this kind of thing could damage his chances of gaining prominence, and that he was too damn clever and brilliant to let something like this derail him. Was Pain really worth that risk?

Yes.

Was Charon willing to risk letting all the faeries that he had sworn that he would protect fall under the rule of someone who was corrupt and bent?

A painfully aching moment where he forgot how to breathe, before –

Yes.

Was he prepared to cost Pain _his _future?

That choice was Pain's.

True, his dean admitted, but he did not expand on why Charon alone had been pulled into the office. If Pain's feelings for Charon were even a quarter of what Charon's were for Pain's, then it might all be worth it.

And it had been a cruel ploy, even though it certainly earned marks for being so blindsiding in its effectiveness. Charon was hardly lacking in confidence when it came to most things; in fact, Pain often commented idly that their relationship was really a kinky kind of threesome when one took Charon's ego into account. But there was one, fatalistic flaw that years of his mother and school life had resulted in and that his dean had somehow managed to pick up on. Having found it, the dean relentlessly used it against him.

You see, Charon wasn't entirely all that convinced that he was worth being loved, and when someone wasn't all that convinced that they were worthy in the first place, it became harder still to believe that anyone might ever actually really love them. What the dean had so kindly alluded to was just how long it would be before Charon reached his expiry date and Pain lost his ability to care. Pain's career in tatters and with nothing left to justify it; it would be all Charon's fault.

He'd broken up with Pain the next day. Pain had argued at first, and then tried to mend the bridges that he never realized had been deliberately burnt. But a month later Pain had shrugged it all off with a grin, saying that they made better friends anyway, and was it just him or was the new exchange student sort of hot?

It had been the right decision, and one that he stuck by. They'd never really been in love, had just experienced the sixteen year old version of it that never really meant anything except at the time. It had been fun and it had been needed, but in the end it had been – as Pain had so perfectly put it - a fling. He'd realized that, in the end.

It was a fling that belonged very much in the past, and for it to stay that way those photos needed to be destroyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks as always for the comments, big hugs as always to you both. I'm posting this very quickly before I go to bed, but I'll respond properly to your comments next time )

**Chapter Three.**

The plan was simple. So simple, in fact, that Charon should have known right from the start that it would never work. All they needed to do was retrieve the original photos and then cast a spell on them that would destroy not merely the originals but all copies as well, and poof! No more blackmail material.

Simple or not, Pain was suitably impressed, although that could have been more because there was destruction – and sanctioned destruction at that – involved. Pain even liked the idea of breaking into the reporter's apartment and stealing the photographs from right under his nose, although when he discovered that Charon would be doing the breaking while Pain was left to the much more subdued entering, there had been some very vocal disappointment. But it was simple, really. Someone would need to distract the reporter (they didn't have the time to sit around idly and wait for him to leave, Charon did have a world to run practically on his own, after all), and if nothing else, Pain made for an adequate enough distraction.

Most non-faeries did not know how difficult transportation truly was. Of course, most non-faeries did not actually know that faeries actually existed, which may have skewered the statistics somewhat. Your normal faerie could transport into wide, grassy areas if they were of middling magic, while those who were more specifically qualified in the discipline could transport anywhere they liked – as long as they could visualize their destination perfectly. It meant that even a qualified fairy could really only ever transport to somewhere they'd previously been - or at least studied in great detail, and most preferred much safer routes of travel that weren't as likely to result in ending up somewhere completely unexpected.

Naturally, none of this applied at all to Charon, who had never been 'most faeries' and neither had he ever been ordinary. It didn't mean that the quiet spell he whispered under his breath was exactly easy, but when he opened his eyes and found himself inside what appeared to be a small, rather battered office, there was only a very slight sense of vertigo. For a moment he stilled, calmly waiting for confirmation not simply that the spell itself had worked but that Pain had managed to not screw his part up. It wasn't long before Pain's voice floated through the thin walls, light and airy and drawing in the reporter without even saying anything of any substance. Charon snorted quietly as Pain asked if the reporter had anything to drink (alcoholic, naturally), before turning to what appeared to be the main desk. The papers on the top were a jumbled mess, but a quick flick through revealed that while there were a lot of dirty secrets there, none of them were his in particular. With a slight growl Charon pulled at one the drawers, only to find it locked. Now, there were generally very few spells that Charon couldn't counter in his sleep, but as he wearily glared at the small, inconspicuous drawer, he knew that when it came to spells such as this, reporters were truly sneaky bastards.

"So, I take it you came to talk about the little present I gave Charon." As the words filtered through the walls Charon's eyes narrowed, wanting to reprimand the little twerp for addressing him in such a familiar manner. Few people got away with calling Charon simply by his first name, and half of them (read: Pain) did so even under threat of a horrible, slow death. The other half (read: Medea) he allowed to address him without his title solely because there were simply not enough hours in the day to explain to Medea why formality was something that needed to he adhered to even by family. Especially by family.

"He wasn't all that happy about the pictures, admittedly." Pain sounded too relaxed, and Charon got the distinct feeling that the other man was slothed out across a couch, a glass of beer already in hand. "They portray a side of him that he doesn't like to acknowledge that much." And Pain was lucky that Charon had more important things to be doing right now than cast a hundred different (all very painful and humiliating) spells on him. The reporter snorted.

"What, you mean his fairie side?"

Charon blinked at the response, losing focus of the drawer before him for the slightest of seconds before he chased the feeling away with a scowl, deliberately blocking out the conversation as he tried another spell on the drawer.

"Or the like." Neither attempt worked all that well. It would have helped if Pain wasn't talk quite so loud. "He certainly wasn't quite so frigid back then as he is now, but you know how power can change a man." Oh, Charon knew. And right now he was thinking just how much his powers could change a certain man in the other room. When Charon had told Pain to serve as a distraction, he'd specifically said what KIND of distraction he was after. Charon had even written the other man a bloody script, although right now he'd be more surprised if Pain actually adhered to it in any manner at all. "But I'm hardly here to talk about a romp between two school boys, it's a topic I'd much rather stayed very much in the past. I'm sure you can understand why." And Charon had actually scripted that bit, but that it flowed so easily from Pain's lips (and when nothing else Charon had written had shown up in any shape or form) made him bristle all the same, and his next counter-spell came out slightly stronger than he meant it to, rattling the table and sending some of the folders on top spilling soundlessly to the floor.

"Understandable. Charon didn't tell you my demands?" Nosy. People called reporters inquisitive, but in Charon's mind they were nosy little trolls who got paid to gossip like old fisherman's wives, and they already HAD enough fisherman's wives in the faerie world for Charon's liking.

"He basically threw the pictures at me, growled your name, and then stomped out." Charon could _hear _Pain's smile in his words. His next spell was inefficient at bypassing the curse, as well. "I realized that if I was going to find out information regarding them, I'd have to go to the source." Said with a depicting laugh, if Charon didn't know better he would have thought that Pain was actually getting along with the reporter.

Wait. He did know better. Pain _was_ getting along with the reporter. Bastard.

It was almost a surprise when the next spell did work, and the small drawer tumbled open. As he quickly searched the contents he lost track of the conversation happening in the next room, keen eyes focusing on finding anything that might be related to the pictures at all. There were photographs, although none related to him, and while there was a folder that caused Charon to pause, the names on the front were Pain and Fanta's, instead of Pain and Charon's. Without looking at the contents of the file, he placed it slowly on top of the desk, pausing for the briefest of moments to look at the innocent enough cover before shaking his head and moving onto the bookcase. The chance of the photographs being hidden anywhere else was fairly slim, and after pulling apart the office – and putting it back together perfectly, he didn't need a suspicious reporter as well as a blackmailing one – he was willing to concede that the photographs were located elsewhere.

Well, willing to concede with a cold narrowing of his eyes. He generally preferred it when his plans actually went to plan.

With everything perfectly back in place, he reached for the one thing that wasn't, the far too thick file that had Pain's name scribbled neatly along the top. Charon wasn't so stupid as to not have some idea of what the contents covered, knowing that there was something incomplete about Pain and his sister's past that never quite made enough sense. Tied somehow to their mother, there was a mystery there that Charon may or may not have puzzled over occasionally himself.

"You have to understand, though, Charon wasn't as uptight back then as he is now," Pain tried to justify, good humor coloring his voice. "He was rather sweet as a teenager."

Sweet? Charon snorted quietly in disbelief, glancing once more at the file before uttering a quite spell under his breath that instantly set it alight. The fire burnt itself out just as it reached Charon's fingers, leaving behind nothing more than a fine trail of ash sprinkled across his fingertips. It was a pity that the file was the only thing he could get away with destroying, but even by doing that he was putting this little mission at risk of suspicion.

"Sweet?" The journalist snorted, just the tiniest bit tipsy. "I can't imagine what he would be like without that stick up his arse, although I suppose he just traded one stick for another, eh?"

On the other hand …

If anything, Pain was almost too amused by it all; standing silently at Charon side as the blaze was slowly put out, leaving behind a shell of framework and the occasional blackened piece of wood that still clung optimistically to the skeletal remains.

"Funny that, how the fire only managed to destroy the reporter's house." Pain spoke conversationally, his eyes never leaving the blaze before them.

"It was contained just in time, it appears," came Charon's non-committal answer. "For a reporter, he's not all that careful. Only a fool would have so much alcohol close to his office. Things are sure to go wrong."

"Agreed," Pain replied with a grin. "Although next time, when things just 'happen' to go wrong? Perhaps a little forewarning might help." Pain's grin turned wry as he gently patted the frazzled ends of his hair. "Not that you didn't do a good job." His last few words were spoken darkly, a hidden threat there that few would be able to recognize.

And, under the cover of darkness, Charon smiled.


End file.
